Amnesty
by nosiddam
Summary: In a world where the clear line between good and evil has long since been blurred, seduction plays a greater part in winning the war than any had truly imagined. Despite reformations, revelations of truth and realized love, can amnesty truly be granted for such grave discrepancies? DM/HG
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome readers! This is a slightly AU multi-chapter I've had in mind for a while and finally had the chance to write. I know it's a bit vague but I promise it will get better, please review and let me know what you think :)**

**Amnesty**

Number twelve Grimmauld place was looking quite worse for wear nowadays, much to the disgust of Mrs Walburga Black's portrait, her screeching evidently airing her displeasure more often times than not. This of course due to the Order of the Phoenix members having made themselves increasingly comfortable within the walls of her former place of residence, bustling in and out frequently, whether bloodied, beaten or Merlin forbid, cheery.

The place was filled with undoubtedly more life than it had possessed in the days since Sirius' childhood and subsequent departure. The abundance of red-headed teenagers along with their parents and consequently their copious numbers of un-biological children created an unseemly amount of noise, yet not a single one of the house guests could manage a night of rest without the presence of so many other restless bodies.

Perhaps it was the unsettling whisper of war in the quiet recesses of the minds of all that allowed for the however strained, generally amiable atmosphere within the home of aristocratic purebloods. Each order member was –not that they'd dare speak such a thing aloud, _comfortable_.

This feeling of course temporary, fleeting as it remained the case for the course of a mere month after a young boy of the Chosen One's age had his life fall apart. The inhabitants of the house knew his name, one in particular better than the rest, a girl with the bushiest hair Walburga Black had ever seen, a fact she announced habitually. Hermione was well aware of this however, she was a witch for goodness sakes and there was not even a potion to cure her particular ailment!

However, the state of her hair truly had ceased to bother her these past few months, she'd hardly been idle a minute. And those rare seconds in which she had been, her thoughts had drifted to a boy who had managed to convince her that her atrocious bird's nest was not truly _that_ horrific.

Thoughts of him however left her melancholic, lounging alone in the first floor library, her nose buried within a book that was of very little use to their current situation, trying desperately not to remember what it was like to read with him.

X

The boy however was similarly plagued with unwanted thoughts of the girl who had broken his heart, it had been a month ago, the truth had been revealed and in a flurry of tears and apologies and she left without ever having explained herself. All he knew was it had been a rouse, the entirety of their whirlwind three months together was false, for she and the order she worked for had discovered his particular fondness for her and used it to their advantage.

At first the boy had been numb, not from firewhiskey or the cold, perhaps a tad from the cold, he _had_ sat ramrod straight for three days in the exact place where she'd abandoned him, the fire he had lit for her comfort dying out with the removal of her presence.

While he did not indulge the local villagers their ghost stories by moaning and yelling, he remained silent in the Shrieking Shack as his shock gave way to a fury that simmered and grew. This of course had brought the anger which seared his veins and destroyed priceless artefact after artefact inside his family's Manor upon his eventual return, it was however not very long before he sought to share his pain with those who would recognise how unfair it was to hurt so very much. While the Dark Lord and his father alike noticed his adaptation, neither rose eyebrows nor questioned his newfound commitment to the cause, rather commending the boy as they relished in the contempt which led him to act as though they had wished he would all these years.

That was until the day Fenrir Greyback and his fellow death eaters were captured or killed in their attempts to take the Weasley's burrow, a plan he'd exposed through his transparent demand for knowledge of her whereabouts. A plan the brightest witch of their age quickly recognised between their kisses, as desperate as he was for her word that she would not be in the vicinity, for the possibility of losing her drove him half mad. And in the days that followed, the spectacularly botched mission and subsequent questions, suspicion came hurtling his way.

X

The alarm of the infiltrated wards set panic fluttering in her chest, she didn't know enough to protect neither herself nor any other occupant of this house from an intruder, particularly of the kind they should be expecting. Moody's shouted "constant vigilance!" taunted her, though she hardly had the time to berate herself. She'd spent the week reading up on ruddy healing spells, with Madame Pomfrey's absence she was all the order had, studying all she could just in case.

Stupid, she cursed herself, books would be of no use to her now, she was virtually alone, with the exception of an otherwise occupied Ginny and Dean, though given the sounds she'd heard escaping their unsilenced room before her assistance, she doubted they'd be of any use. Merlin, she couldn't do this.

Calm yourself, Hermione, she instructed, every inch the Hogwarts Head Girl she had never quite become as she crept silently towards the front door. Her stealth placating the portraits who appreciated her attempts to remain unseen, nothing unsettled them more than a mudblood strutting their halls.

With a steeling breath and silent prayer to an entity no one of this world knew of, Hermione Granger leapt into the blackness, her Gryffindor courage at an all time foolish high. However, this fled her system at record speed, only to be replaced by fear of bone-chilling, all consuming variety as the girl rushed and dropped to her knees beside the crumpled body of none other than Draco Malfoy.

Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to bite her tongue on her scream, it would not do to draw any further attention to those that surely lurked about.

She felt nothing but dread as she reached for him, a tentative hand to the body she'd touched a thousand times. Only upon the marriage of her fingers to his soaking robes alerted her to a greater dread than she had initially acknowledged, Draco had not been stupefied, nor would she wager his less than impressive complexion had much to do with far too much time spent indoors, no, the man was bleeding out on the doorstep of a location he should not have known.

With urgent panic, Ginny and Dean be damned, Hermione sent for any occupant of the home to know of her desperate need for assistance.

Reaching for Draco once more she had confirmed his ink of the night robes were drenched in blood, liquid ruby staining her fingers and palms as she could not quench her need to touch him, soothe him in the only manner with which she was aware. She felt more than heard the pitiful and terrifying brush of air that was his words, her excitement so intense she very nearly laughed with relief. She hushed him gently; knowing his futile attempts to speak would only further weaken him, a fate she could not bare to see him suffer.

On his next attempt to speak, Hermione cupped his cheek, his brilliant mercury eyes snapping open at the perfect fit of their skin, though they were unfocused as all his energy was devoted to his croaking request.

"Amnesty," he breathed and pleaded all at once before his eyes drooped and his breathing shallowed, leaving Hermione Granger unable to be deterred from screaming, "no!" in the misleadingly empty darkness of this cool spring night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The characters of this story sadly do not belong to me, but rather the lovely J.K. Rowling. Only the plot I can claim as my own. Enjoy!**

**Amnesty (ii)**

There were several thoughts that swam in Hermione Granger's mind as the chaos ceased and she found herself in the makeshift hospital; a term used very loosely to describe the space that had previously been home to Harry Potter's sleeping body. Her blessed friend had quickly vacated the room upon her frenzied request, deciding rather quickly that he preferred to reside with Ron than remain and play nurse to his childhood nemesis.

With a less than subtle disgusted look shot at Hermione for allowing the blond boy entrance into safe haven, Ron of course accepted their friend with open arms, for his hatred of the youngest Malfoy had all but tripled in its intensity with his sudden reappearance.

However in the quiet moments where Draco slept and she remained at the opposite end of the room, an echoing chasm of space roaring between them, Hermione was forced to acknowledge the reactions of the remainder of the house to their visitor. The Order members had flocked to Grimmauld place upon Harry's request, the imminent threat of danger he had perceived struck fear into the hearts of all. Yet while those of higher importance than she or her closer friends remained tightly engaged in a discussion regarding their next move, Hermione remained alone with Draco Malfoy, for neither Harry, Ron nor Ginny could stand the sight of the boy. How she'd once been foolish enough to believe that perhaps they'd move past the petty animosity which had developed long ago, she mused, twirling her wand between her fingers, Draco's own glaring from beside her on the wooden desk she leant upon for the support her housemates would not provide.

Perhaps she had been too optimistic in believing there was hope for the souls they'd lost to the dark, now vaguely recognising herself as the naive girl he'd once accused her of being. She shuddered as though assaulted by a non-existent draft within the old house.

"Hermione."

She started at the call of her name, softly spoken at the doorway, Mr Weasley's brilliant but receding hairline flaming in the limited light. "You don't have to be with him, dear," he said gently, far too considerately for what she deserved.

Her guilt continued to niggle at her, rising from the quiet whispers it had once been to a harsh shout Hermione felt claw at her insides while in such close quarters to the source of her turmoil.

Arthur dealt considerably well with their actions and consequent results, for such a kind soul the orchestrating of such a cruelly elaborate plan appeared to faze him very little, if it all. Ancient feuds, Hermione reasoned, their ridiculousness something she did not wish to investigate at the present.

"But I do," she answered, softly, however she knew it was not the politest way to interact with the man who had practically become her father.

Arthur did not look upon her as one would a sulking child, rather with understanding, though she highly suspected she was currently being misunderstood. "We're not sure how young master Malfoy will respond to seeing you, Hermione. Perhaps it's best someone else is here to welcome him back to consciousness."

She thought briefly on the idea before realising the wisdom in the older man's words.

Of course he wouldn't want to see her, not after well, _everything_. He probably hated her with a greater intensity than he had when they'd first met and she was solely the embodiment of filth within his father's belief system.

"Oh. R-right, of course. If-" she mumbled, tripping over her words as though a physical object rather than a product of her fraught nerves. She felt blush sting her cheeks as her pale hand was caught in her wild disarray of curls, her magic long having brought it greater life than she appreciated.

With a kind smile, Arthur Weasley placated her with a dependable promise, "if he or I should require you help, I'll have you here in a heartbeat, Hermione."

She nodded, taking her leave with aching knees for having stood for so long.

X

The boy had nought but stirred as the Weasley patriarch sat by his bedside, the odd moan filling the air as he redressed the boy's deeper wounds that could not be completely healed by magic. It was in his attempt to check upon a gash dominating the left side of the boy's chest that Arthur discovered what Hermione had surely missed, something of a feat in of its own. The slightly thicker than typical parchment rectangle that had been tucked in the young Malfoy's now slack robe, on its gentle removal was discovered to be a wizarding photograph of the almost man and the girl who had begrudgingly left the room a mere hour previously.

"Blimey," Arthur muttered, sounding far more like his youngest son than he would have liked while sinking back into the chair he had risen from, feeling the weight of his deceit push heavily against his chest.

He'd always prided himself on being better than Lucius Malfoy, not in monetary wealth or the social status the wizarding world obsessed over, but in integrity, and yet here he was, firsthand witnessing the destruction of a boy who so easily could have been his own Ron.

He shook his head as he watched Lucius' son, smirking the way only a Malfoy could, gently brushed a curl from the side of Hermione's face. The girl however, perceptive as she had always been caught this and shoved his chest, the gesture as teasing as it was flirtatious. It was then that the boy captured her offending extremity and pressed the kind of kiss to her skin that screamed his attachment to the one his world forbade him.

Arthur slumped further into his seat, the photograph tightly held in his hand as he cursed softly as the reality of the damage he had caused slept on before him while the other surely, however noiselessly, hovered anxiously outside that very room awaiting his call.

X

Arthur had exited the space several minutes earlier, granting Hermione permission to enter as he ought to discuss the response of the Order to the presence of their new house guest.

She hadn't so much as fleetingly considered the decision of the Order, she realised with great shame as she placed the chair Mr Weasley had been sitting in marginally closer to the occupied bed than it had previously been.

Hermione Granger had _always _been known for her logical thinking however the second in which her eyes found his form and blood flashed in her eyes, her mind replayed the recent deaths of far too many, she had not hesitated before unconsciously vowing to keep his name from being tacked onto the end of those they had already lost.

No one had scolded her as of yet, though she knew it was coming, mentally preparing herself as she had once done before entering the animosity clouded potions classroom that had belonged to the infamous Professor Snape.

Arthur hadn't approached her to enquire after anything other than her wellbeing and Draco's, for his kindness and kept him from ever using a harsh word on anyone, save Draco's atrocious father. She expected perhaps Remus, the professor despite his high regard for her, would not tolerate rashness or stupidity, and her flinging open her door in the middle of the night to welcome in a known Death Eater most definitely fit within the aforementioned categories.

However she barely had time to dwell on the horror she so easily could have brought upon the residents of her pseudo-home had Draco manipulated her. Nor to truly consider the immense tongue lashing she would surely receive in the coming hours, as it would not have been as though she was undeserving of such a fate.

Her glance at the deceivingly peaceful young man reminded her of the fool this war had made her, for her survival instincts, her wisdom, her bloody cool had been thrown out the window the second she had been provided with her mission. And would surely be again, she realised with a racing heart as the illusion of peace broke the terse silence of the lonely, for the previously immobile boy began to thrash.

**A/N): Ooh Draco's returning to consciousness, how will he react to Hermione? What will Arthur do with the photograph? Keep reading and I'll let you know! Also any reviews or queries are more than welcome :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to upload this, it's been a crazy couple of weeks! But we are here finally (yay), so without further ado this is chapter three and the characters still do not belong to me. Enjoy ****and please review! x**

**Amnesty (iii)**

He'd told her once, fleetingly, in the calm afterglow that his sleep demons had all but ceased with her presence. In that moment, he had been as surprised with the revelation of his attachment as she had been with the admission of his vulnerability.

Being the Gryffindor Know-It-All she was, Hermione had enquired with a soft voice and gentle prompting as to the nature of his dreams. He'd never gone into much detail of course, he was still Draco Malfoy, impenetrable as stone when he desired to be. Yet his feelings for her had provided the chink in his armour, her gateway to true knowledge of Draco the man, rather than Malfoy the Death Eater.

"I'm not made for this," he'd confessed once.

It was the kind of thing one said on the edge of sleep. Words whispered in the dark as though he were inside his own mind rather than the discreet muggle London hotel room, or more correctly, the warm bed he had currently been sharing with Hermione Granger, bleeding heart extraordinaire.

She wordlessly encouraged him with the increasing closeness of her body to his own and although she knew he had wished to stop, he could not find it within himself now that half of the secret had been told.

His hand against her back tensed, clenching into a fist of restraint before finally relenting and splaying as he stole greedy touches of her rose petal skin.

"The death," he began hesitantly, "the destruction, the lies. Salazar knows I'm Slytherin to the bone, cunning and cold, though I'm not my father. I-I can't do it like he can."

She froze briefly though did not wish to further encourage his self loathing for having admitted as much to her despite the several months of the torrid union having bonded them closer than could ever be undone by something as simple as a confession of too much too soon.

The words were priceless to the girl who was currently attempting to repent for her friend's sins as she traced one of the larger Sectumpsempra scars across his chest with the tip of her index finger. Though his confession did not continue, nor could she reply as Draco took control of her lips with a bruising kiss, as though his attentions however consuming they were could indeed make her forget the whispered gift he had given her.

He however, could not, she had filed away the words for undoubtedly later use as she continued her silent apologies, both for Harry's actions and those of so many others.

"You don't have to..." he murmured, his eyes closed, knowing the emotions her features leaked.

Despite her desperate and clawing need to confess her own sins, she pressed a kiss to his chest, flawless skin marred by hatred and whispered for him, "I know."

X

Her heart fluttered with a mixture of hope and all consuming dread as his body convulsed before her, his seeker moulded limbs thrashing and collecting the sheets as he tossed and turned.

"Nightmare," she realised aloud, though she hardly noticed, he was her sole focus, as he had been for so very long.

She knew instantly that she ought not wake him, for there was nothing worse than to wake a sleepwalker and she feared that the intense nightmares fell into rather the same description. However, it seemed cruel to her gentle soul to remain here at the foot of his bed and witness his torment as though it were a fresh film at the cinema. Despite that thought, she knew however that she was not quite prepared nor was she equipped to deal with a conscious Draco Malfoy.

Oh Merlin, she thought in a panic, what if his own violent reactions woke him? Surely she'd given him a strong enough dose of sleeping draught to keep him unconscious until at the very least tomorrow's light. She found though that she could not quite recall her measurements, as she shook like a leaf in his presence those first few minutes, unable to do anything but simmer in her alarm.

Looking back at the cause of her lacking brain, she noticed sweat had begun to bead at his brow, tiny drops forming a sheen that coated his face as his injured body sleep shifted once more, harshly thrown limbs that would surely ache when he finally it appeared that he had.

His eyes were wide, frantic and unseeing as they flickered repeatedly though blindly over her face.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, as though his vocal chords had been scrubbed with a potato peeler. "No," he began again, "what do you mean?"

His husky speech left her aching, the familiarity of the formation of those words on his lips stung her soul, for he'd said those very words as she left.

"Shh," she hushed, timidly approaching the bed.

"Don't go," he sleep slurred, yet the request so clear it all but pierced her being.

Drawing even closer she whispered, "Draco, I'm here."

Stroking his hand with gentle fingers that he'd so greatly missed, she continued, "hush Draco."

But he didn't. It was as though the removal of her hand brought him extreme agony as his body shook and he begged in a most unfamiliar fashion, not to mention loudly enough to rattle the portraits, "Hermione, _please_."

It was without thought that the second he voiced the plea she had never before heard with such desperation that her gentle hands captured his shaking face. She stroked his hallowed cheeks the way she had the first night they had slept together, chorusing the promise that she was here.

He gasped with a viciousness she had not been expecting upon their contact, grasping the hand that held his face, his shudders perhaps even fiercer than before.

"Draco," she muttered, her fingers searching for the greatest purchase for his attention, begging for a returned serenity she would not receive, as his heavily drugged and disorientated eyes truly saw her.

And it was then as recognition flashed briefly in the molten silver depths and his tremors increased tenfold that he sought and latched her lips between his.

**A/N: What did we think? I know it's taken a while to get to any actual interaction to occur between our lovebirds and I am terribly sorry but I promise it is just around the corner, the scene is finally set :)**


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